The Things We Do
by Mariposa Indigo
Summary: JumbaPleakley slash. Set immediately after the events of Stitch! the Movie, the pair come to terms with Jumba's love for illegal activity...and with certain other feelings.


Author's Note: Many, many thanks to everyone who responded to my last fic, and all the positive things that were said. This is yet another slash, and it goes quite a bit farther than the last one, so if you have issues with the idea of Jumba and Pleakley finding love, with each other, I suggest you either stop reading or read and not make comments to the effect of "ew" or "homosexuality is wrong" or anything that suggests the fic sucks solely because of the subject matter.  
  
The Things We Do has major spoilers for both Stitch! the Movie and an upcoming chaptered fic, She Blinded Me With Science, which is the prequel to this and has yet to be written/posted. You can probably understand this without S!tM and I explain everything that comes from She Blinded Me, but I just wanted to give a heads up.  
  
Please take the time to respond, as I crave attention. :) And enjoy!  
  
  
  
The Things We Do  
  
"Let me not to the marriage of true minds/Admit impediments. Love is not love/Which alters when it alteration finds,/Or bends with the remover to remove:/O no! It is an ever-fixed mark/That looks on tempests and is never shaken;/It is the star to every wandering bark,/Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken./Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks/Within his bending sickle's compass come:/Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,/But bears it out even to the edge of doom./If this be error and upon me proved,/I never writ, nor no man ever loved." (Shakespeare, Sonnet 116)  
  
"We *need* to talk, Pleakley."  
  
"NO!"  
  
Jumba could almost feel the word being underscored as the door slammed. He stood helplessly outside the barred entrance to their room, wincing at the echoing of the sound. "Little one," he begged gently, "please to be-"  
  
"I said NO! And don't call me that! EVER!"  
  
The larger alien sighed, leaning his massive frame against the side of the door. Normally, he'd be screaming back, trying to break in, ripping sheets of paper into little pieces in frustration. Maybe it was knowing he wasn't entirely right about this one that made him so passive. Maybe it was just Pleakley.   
  
Pleakley, who was now shouting "I'm all locked up in here with your precious experiments! Doesn't that make you nervous?!"  
  
"I thought," Jumba attempted desperately, "that Earth psychology say talking is good thing? Clear air and make way for compromise?"  
  
"Earth psychology also talks about honesty between people who care about each other, which is more than I can say for-"  
  
Jumba felt something inside him tense closer to the breaking point. "And I am supposed to be telling you what, now? That I am sorry, Pleakley, I mean everything I say about trying to change, but by the way, this little legacy I left behind, all 625 pieces of it, what do I do with THOSE-"  
  
"You don't stick them with me and leave me to take the blame for your evil!"  
  
"If you would only LISTEN to me, that would not be what you are thinking!"  
  
The door swung open, but Jumba wasn't able to even let relief set in, before Pleakley began again. "I know EXACTLY what to think! I know that when I came to you, ASKING to see everything you do, TRYING to understand why you have to be this way and love it so much, you had a prime chance to tell me. And you didn't! You didn't say a word to me, Jumba! And it was because you knew I'd make you throw them out!"  
  
"You threw out everything else!"  
  
"You let me! And then we moved your lab into our room, which is much larger and brighter, might I add, and..." Pleakley seemed an inch from tears. The stress of the last few days, the lack of sleep, his midnight phone calls and Jumba's perpetual brave face were all taking their toll. "And I said that as long as you weren't hurting anyone, as long as all of that was gone, you had NO reason to hide, or am I forgetting something there?"  
  
"You forget that I hurt no one!" Jumba persisted. "I do not even touch other experiments until Gantu and Hamsterveil, who I thought was being DEAD, try to-"  
  
"And then when THAT little danger was on its way, what do you do?"  
  
"I go to you! That does not say what you think it says, little one, not by long shot-"  
  
"Stop it, Stitch, I can't hear!"  
  
The aliens froze, exchanging a glance of mutual panic. Even the usually nonplussed Jumba wanted this argument to be private. "Did you hear that?"  
  
"I'm not sure..."  
  
The voices grew more distinct, coming from above the pair as Stitch's voice now chimed in. "Pleakley naga queesta!"  
  
"What did he just call-?!"  
  
"Ssh!"  
  
"Well, I think he's right," Lilo insisted. "Your cousins are really cool but he still shouldn't have lied!" Stitch babbled something in response. "That was only that one...ok, those four times! But last time it was to save Jumba, and that worked, didn't it?"  
  
The mad scientist in question rubbed the two eyes closest to his temples, groaning. "Little girl and 626 are like benevolent force of nature," he grumbled, "but should be keeping out of buisness of adults."  
  
"We really need better soundproofing on our ceiling."  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"Let me get this straight. You want me to take Lilo and Stitch out for the afternoon. Manage them by myself. So you and Pleakley can...talk?" Nani eyed Jumba with disbelief, her eyebrow arching at the final word.  
  
"Talk," he repeated firmly. "About very important things, unless you should like little girl to listen in on very personal screaming match?"  
  
"I can't handle those twin cyclones alone! I barely do it with you two helping me!"  
  
"Why not invite mellow surfer boy?" Jumba suggested. "He seem willing to go anywhere with you."  
  
"We just went out a few days ago! I can't give him the wrong idea, not right now."  
  
"But is not primitive Earth mating ritual if others are there, yes? Nani..." Jumba's voice was quieter, humbler than the young woman had ever remembered it. "I just realize something important a few days ago, and now big mistake might be ruining this. Please to be giving us just one afternoon."  
  
"Oh...fine," Nani muttered, and began looking for her purse.  
  
"We are owing you one."  
  
She smirked. "What is it with you two, anyway?"  
  
"Hah! Wish I knew. Would save me much trouble."  
  
"Just...warn me if you guys...you know?"  
  
Jumba looked unusually thoughtful. "Pleakley is best friend and closest family. Is all I have in universe, and became all that in such short time. But we are so different. Must be dealing with that kind of different, before we are any other kind."  
  
Nani hid a smile, as Jumba looked surprised by his own words. Then she began to call her sister and Stitch downstairs.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"So. We are alone."  
  
"Yep. Alone."  
  
The house hadn't been left to them in months. The last time, it had been for a week. A simple question from Pleakley had led to long hours of genes and chemicals, splicing and reconfiguring, with the one-eyed alien as Jumba's apprentice. The fruits of their labor swam in a bowl on their dresser: Koi, a goldfish with enhanced affection and intelligence, strong enough to live for a decade.  
  
It had been a peace offering, a compromise between two people who would never fully understand each other. They'd illegally created life, but in the most harmless form possible. And no matter how Jumba named his experiments, Koi would always be the real 627.  
  
It had been even more, maybe, the night Pleakley was crying about how he'd never get genetics right, and Jumba decided they needed a break. He'd taken Pleakley to a new sushi place, which was how they'd decided to create a fish and what they'd name her. Pleakley had adapted to the theme with remarkable skill: a kimono, chopsticks, cherry blossoms in his wig, looking strangely beautiful and out of place compared to the pair's usual garb.  
  
Now, Pleakley broke the silence. "You're thinking about Koi too, huh?"  
  
"Whole week we made her, actually." Jumba tapped a finger against the fishbowl, and Koi almost seemed to purr, nuzzling herself against the glass. "Night we go out to restaraunt..."  
  
Pleakley giggled like he was first tasting mischief again. "We got so drunk."  
  
"Primitive Earth rice-wine had excellent quality."  
  
"I wouldn't know."  
  
"Neither would I," Jumba admitted. "But was fun!"  
  
"Yeah..." A few moments of silence passed before Pleakley met Jumba's eyes, beginning to look wounded again. "You lied to me."  
  
"Yes. I did."  
  
"Not even about trying to change. I believe you're trying. Not even when you didn't volunteer that the other experiments were here. But Gantu was practically on top of us, and you were trying to get them away from here, and you STILL said they were 'nothing'!"  
  
"I was afraid! Was...was just first instinct. I am used to hiding work from others. And I am especially NOT used to...trusting. Is old habit and is dying hard, as goes Earth cliche. I...am sorry, little one."  
  
Jumba felt a surge of relief as his friend didn't wince at the term of endearment.  
  
"When Gantu took you away," Pleakley began, "I was ready to call up every planet in the universe, if I had to. I got midway through 'D' in the listed numbers before I was ready to break for sleep. And once I heard your voice and knew you were ok, I completely forgot how tired I was. I'd never been so relieved before!"  
  
"You would do anything to keep me safe, eh?"  
  
"Yes!"  
  
Jumba snorted cynically. "Except take bag of experiments without fuss, of course, or releasing experiment to help rescue me, or even looking like Lilo do for some way to save them too."  
  
"They don't matter to me! You do!"  
  
"Pleakley!" Jumba snapped, feeling a sudden stab of frustration. "They are PART of me! You still are not understanding that? When experiment is causing chaos and destruction, I am proud because I MADE it. I am not calling myself evil genius to be cute or find date for Saturday night or some such nonsense. Perhaps to feed ego a little, but mostly I am saying it because it is TRUE!"  
  
"Then why do I still lo-" Pleakley's voice wavered. "C-care about you?"  
  
That's not what you were about to say, Jumba thought, but instead he pulled Pleakley into an embrace.  
  
"Because that is what caring *is*, and it..." Pleakley wasn't moving away from his arms, and he was beginning to realize how good it felt. "And it is why I do not mind crying fits and attempts at silent treatment and way you are afraid to take slightest risk. Why I wear disguises and do dances and go shopping with you, and why I would not give up what I love most for anyone, but for very long time I think about doing it for you."  
  
"I...could never make you do that. Just tell me next time, ok?"  
  
"I am sorry I was ever keeping secret in first place."  
  
"It's ok." Pleakley gave a weak laugh, and leaned his head against Jumba's chest, drained.  
  
"Tired, little one?"  
  
"Mmm. Don't move."  
  
Jumba laughed softly, the vibrations rumbling against Pleakley's body. "I think we are complimenting each other, no?"  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"I am not reasonable person, never even try until I come here. And you are turning into quite the rebel." That laugh again, and a warmth neither could remember ever feeling. "Your mother, I think, would not be liking company you keep."  
  
"She wouldn't completely hate it..."  
  
Pleakley always wondered why kisses were said to have bells and fireworks attached. But then he knew, you didn't really see or hear those things. You felt them, shooting through your body.  
  
"Now that, Mother would HATE that."  
  
"And now, my little one, we really DO need to soundproof ceiling."  
  
-fin- 


End file.
